


detangle, braid, tangle, repeat

by wouldiwereShOoOkspeare



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben and Rey are living happily on Ach To like they deserve, Braiding kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hair Braiding, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smidge Of Angst, Smut, Soft Ben Solo, maybe a nugget of plot if you squint, pretty sure this is blasphemous to alderaanian hair braiding but oh well, though i don't think it matters that it's set in canonverse considering it's just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23875786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldiwereShOoOkspeare/pseuds/wouldiwereShOoOkspeare
Summary: He presses kisses against her collarbone, her shoulder, her neck, her forehead, her eyelids- everywhere he can reach- as his breathing slows down his fingers gently detangling her hair from her now frizzy, knotted braid.Pressing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, he breathes a gentle “I love you.”-----Ben braids Rey's hair when they're having sex.Rey has no fucking clue what's up with that.Yeppppp it's a hair braiding kink fic.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 25
Kudos: 246





	detangle, braid, tangle, repeat

The first time he does it she is nestled between his knees on the cold dirt floor of their hut, drunk on his heated gaze, and letting his precome settle on her bottom lip before she swipes it off with a kittenish flick of her tongue, savouring the taste. 

She hasn’t done this before Ben.

Ben is her first-

Well, _everything_ , really. 

So when she feels the comforting weight of his hand on her head, hand carding through her hair, fingers deftly weaving her hair into a complicated braid, gathering more strands of hair as he twines one strand over the other, she dutifully ignores it. 

She ignores the weirdness of Ben- her other half, her equal, her lover, her everything- braiding her hair while she is trying to suck the life out of him via a blowjob instead leaning into how his nails gently rake against her scalp, giving him a sharp suck that coaxes a whine out of his throat. 

She ignores the weirdness of it because he is alive, she is alive, and Exegol is now nothing but a nightmare that they can wake up from, wrapped up around each other. 

She draws off him, gently minding her teeth, to lick at a thick vein, letting out a small smile when he twitches against her tongue. Letting the tip of him balance precariously on her tongue she savours the weight of him before closing her lips around him and lightly twirling her tongue, moaning around him when precome dribbles into her mouth. 

Ben lets out a low groan cupping her jaw with his massive hand while his other hand that is keeping the braid together gently encourages her to take him in deeper. 

“Kriff,” he hisses, hand tightening around her head, fingers weaving themselves under the braid that he so carefully wove. 

Opening her mouth wide, she sinks down on him again taking as much of him as possible, grinning around him when he lets out a soft whine. 

“So fucking good cya’rika,” he murmurs, hand tightening around the braid that he just deftly wove. “So good.” 

She moves up and down his cock building a brisk rhythm guided by Ben’s hand in her hair which tightens periodically when she sucks the hollow of her cheeks around him. 

She places her hands on his knees, spreading them so she can nestle in closer, sliding her palm up the length of her thigh so that she can toy with his balls. When her hand cups his balls and she sucks around the head of him, he gasps and hunches over her, fingers twining between the strands of her braid and _pulling_ as he twitches in her mouth, hot cum spurting into her mouth as he shudders and babbles sweet dirty nonsensical nothings. 

Drawing off him, she looks up at him between her lashes maintaining eye contact as she swallows and another shudder rocks through his body. She flutters kisses around the inside of his thighs, in a poor attempt to calm him down though judging by the weak twitch of his cock next to her cheek it seems to do the exact opposite. 

“Kriff, Rey,” he pants out gruffly sliding his fingers out from her braids, lifting her so that she is splayed across his lap. 

He presses kisses against her collarbone, her shoulder, her neck, her forehead, her eyelids- everywhere he can reach- as his breathing slows down his fingers gently detangling her hair from her now frizzy, knotted braid. 

Pressing a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, he breathes a gentle “I love you.” 

*

When Rey exhausted and covered in oil enters their hut the scent of Malreaux rose, sandalwood, and honeyed peaches wash over her senses and her tired eyes blink until a durasteel tub with her tall gentle giant of a lover sipping on a glass of green milk comes into focus. 

Ben makes a pretty sight, eyes closed, bare skin sparkling with tiny droplets of water as he lays in a bath of pearly translucent water. 

At the sound of her footsteps, he opens his eyes, blinking lazily and she is overwhelmed by the sheer adoration that shines from his gaze. He sets his milk down on a bath cuddy that he carved out of a broken branch of the uneti tree.

“Hello,” he murmurs, lips barely moving.

“You stole my bath oils” she scolds, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. 

Ben blushes. “I like smelling like you.”

Her smirk transforms into something more genuine and she feels blood rising towards her cheeks. “I like you smelling like me.” 

His eyes darken as they run the length of her and he quirks his eyebrows at her. “You’re very dirty,” he rumbles, setting aside the glass and bath cuddy to the floor. “I think you should join me.” 

Wordlessly, Rey shrugs off one of Ben’s old tunics, shimmying out of her tights, grunting as she stretches her breast band over her head and hastily tugs her cotton underwear down her legs. 

Under the harsh lighting of the fresher and covered in engine grease, she doesn’t feel particularly sexy but the way Ben’s eyes trace her every movement with his lips slightly parted makes her feel like she is the only woman in the galaxy. 

She pads over to the bathtub peering down at him, mentally calculating how he means to fit her in a bathtub that barely contains him. 

Ben huffs and within a blink of an eye he surges up, and with a slippery arm that wraps around her waist, he hauls her into the tub with him. He grunts as he sets her down and adjusts her so that she is nestled between his legs, and her chest is flat against his. The water cooling on his skin sends shivers down her spine, goosebumps prickling her skin but the warm arm that is firmly wrapped around her waist makes her feel as if she was floating in the Casorian hot springs. 

“That was unnecessary,” she murmurs, nestling her head in the crook of his neck and running kisses against the length of his collarbone. 

“I beg,” he breathes fluttering kisses across her shoulder, “to differ.” 

He cups his hands together and pooling water between his palms and gently pours it over her skin, lathering her up with the sweet-scented water. She hums contentedly squirming against him and that’s when she feels-

_Oh._

She isn’t quite sure how she missed that.

The length of his cock is pressing insistently against her thigh and she resists the urge to grind against it. 

She fails.

Miserably.

She wiggles her hips against it. Once. Twice. And lets out a small gasp when she feels it twitch against her. 

Ben lets out a gruff “I’m trying to clean you,” but his eyes are full of mirth.

She grinds against him again.

“Are you sure?” she asks her voice embarrassingly breathy. 

He lets out a quiet growl that she _feels_ against her chest, and suddenly his hard muscular wet thigh is slotted between her legs.

“Good girls are patient.” 

“Who said I was good?” she teases slowly moving against his thigh letting her slick smear his oil-slicked skin. 

Ben inhales through his nose sharply, and his hands weave up into her hair as she nips at the side of his jaw. 

“Patience is a virtue,” his groans and his fingers are deftly combing her hair into two strands and crossing them over each other gathering more hair as he goes. 

The demand for him to give up on braiding her hair, for him to place his hands on her hips and manhandle her hovers on the tip of her tongue but then he shifts his thigh by a minuscule and her mind goes blank. She bites back a whine and rocks harder against his thigh, small pants leaving her mouth and brushing against the hard planes of his chest. 

“I think,” she breathes between pants, “we’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?” 

She lifts her head and messily brushes her lips against his until it’s a graceless clash of tongue and teeth and fucking hell he’s still braiding her hair. Letting an exasperated sigh out she breaks the kiss and trails her nails down his chest, marking his abs (his _eight pack_ ) with pink lines. 

And that-

That triggers something within him. “Fuck how are you even real,” he mutters voice frantic as he ties off her braid with a practised flick of his hand (when did he find a hair tie?). He surges up, one giant hand grasping her hip rocking her harder against him, the other sliding down to press against her stomach, thumb flicking at her swollen clit. And just like that she-

Comes. 

_Hard._

Her toes are curling, head falling down to bury into his chest, and she thinks she’s sobbing but she’s not certain because it doesn’t seem to matter when her whole body feels like it’s precariously balancing on the edge of life and death. Her hands scramble to find any part of him to hold onto because she feels like if she doesn’t tether herself to him she will float away and that must not happen (she almost left him once and she will never forgive herself if it happens again). 

When her ears start functioning again she hears the soft pitter-patter of raindrops accompanied by a soft string of “yes sweetheart, my cyar'ika, you’re so beautiful when you come, so good for me, I love you, I’m yours, sweetheart, you are _my _everything_ ”. _

Rey lets out a breathy giggle, that comes out as a strangled sob. She is overwhelmed with her love with him and she doesn’t quite know what to do with it except kiss him, everywhere and anywhere. 

Ben tips her jaw up with the pad of his index finger so she can meet his eyes and offers her his half-finished glass of green milk. “You should rehydrate,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against her hairline as she accepts the glass from him. 

She downs the glass in two gulps, as he toys with the ends of her hair. 

When she sets down the glass next to the tub, Ben licks off the milk moustache that has formed attractively around her lips, and she smiles against his lips deciding that being overwhelmed by her love for him is the best feeling there could be. 

Especially if it comes with a serving of orgasms like the ones he gives her. 

Catching her reflection in the mirror propped up against the wall she lets out a groan at the sight of her braided hair- messy, knotted, frizzy with sweat and the hot steam of the bath. 

“You said you were going to clean me,” she moans, pulling at her hair. 

“In all fairness-” he dips three fingers into a jar of bath oils rubbing it between his palms, “you weren’t all that interested in getting clean.” 

He works his hands through her hair, gently tugging at the knots in her hair until they surrender and come undone in his hands, as he asks her about the work she did on the Millenium Falcon today, a small smile tugging at his mouth as she goes on a long-winded rant on rewiring the backup hyperdrive. As she drinks in his smile she thinks of the island that was in her dreams when she was a lonely child that was kept alive by sheer hunger and hope and thinks to herself that in this bathtub he is her island. And her dreams have travelled across to the realm of reality. 

*

Ben is soft. Gentle. 

There is no doubt about that. Not many in the galaxy can attest to that but to Rey, it is a truth that is universally acknowledged. He is her soft, gentle, giant lover who just happens to have a murderous past.

But he’s reformed. People _change_.

So when he is slamming into her, his slick chest against her arched back, nibbling at her ear, and has a hand possessively wrapped around her neck- the only thing that is precariously keeping her from collapsing onto her front- it feels novel in the most delicious way. 

She savours it when _it’s_ like this. It reminds her of the smoke of their first fight when she left her mark on him (via scar, oops) the sheer rush of adrenaline that went through her when she groped his thigh in Snoke’s throne room and the way he looked at her as if she was his everything when she threaded up the sinews of his flesh back together when she stabbed him with her lightsaber (which double oops; remember people change). 

Which may sound less than pleasant.

But to her, it is everything.

It is the passion that Ben was warned against, it is the tension buzzing in the force when they touched hands in front of a warm fire on this very planet, it is the desperate feeling she felt when she thought that she lost Ben on Exegol, it is a reminder that they could’ve lost each other but they _didn’t_.

So to her, it is everything.

As his skin slaps against hers, his hand moves from her neck to roughly push her down onto her forearm she gasps for air which is quickly knocked out of her again when he tugs at her hair. 

_Oh._

This is good.

She’s about to tell him as much when without faltering in his rhythm (which admittedly is very impressive) his fingers start combing her hair into three sections.

She groans, and it’s not necessarily out of pleasure (okay, maybe it is a little) but it is muffled by the mattress underneath her.

Exasperated she pulls herself together enough to muster a ‘what the fuck is with the braids’ but before she can say anything, do anything, he slides his thumb into her pussy along with his cock and she _screams_ drowning out his growls of how she’s ‘messy and so _so bad’._

Rey blanks out and barely registers the sharp nip of his teeth at his shoulder at he attempts to muffle his roar, his hips stuttering against hers pumping her full of his cum. She only _just_ registers how he taps his cock against the curve of her arse as he pushes back his cum inside her with his thick fingers, muttering something about “where it belongs".

What she does register is how he fishes out a few hairpins from under his pillow and slides them under the braid that wraps around her head to pin them in place. 

She turns her head back to look at him and ask him why? Why braids? It’s not annoying but it’s kind of strange and she just wants to know what it’s about, why he’s doing it, or whether it’s an in-the-moment thing.

But he looks so happy and so blissed out that she can’t bring herself to do it. So instead she gingerly presses her fingers to the braid, feeling how strands of her hair twine together intricately, and nuzzles her nose against his.

*

Rose is ranting about how utterly shitty pregnancy hormones are over holocall when a thought strikes Rey.

Like the good friend she is, she pushes it to the back of her mind, to instead reassure Rose that ‘no, telling Finn that he deserves to Iceburn in Hoth was not too harsh of a statement to say to the man that has impregnated you, but you should probably apologise because when he offered to make you flatcakes it came from a place of love.’ 

“You’re right,” Rose nods, her face flickering in the blue light of the projector as she munches on a piece of Jogan fruit. Her face crumbles mid-chew and Rey tenses preparing to walk Rose through deep breathing exercises to ease whatever panic she may be feeling. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t even asked” Rose mutters frantically. “How are you holding up?” 

The thought at the back of Rey’s mind nudges its way forward.

“Ahhhh,” Rey starts. “Do you like my hair long? Like...do you think it looks _nice_ grown out like this?”

“Yeah, it’s really pretty Rey.” Rose tilts her head to the side. “Why do you ask?”

Rey chews at the corner of her lip as she tries to figure out what to say, how to explain whatever it is that Ben has been doing.

“It’s just that Ben...he’s started to braid my hair while we’re...well. Y’know.” 

__Rose quirks an eyebrow up. “Y’know what?”_ _

__“While we’re being intimate,” she whispers because on Jakku if sex was ever discussed, it was whispered into the cold night air accompanied by the melodic jingle of coins and old habits die hard. Rey isn’t used to talking sex._ _

__

__“Why are you whispering?” Rose whispers back, mimicking Rey.  
“I,” Rey bristles squaring her shoulders back. “I was protecting the innocence of your little one. You never know when they start listening”_ _

__Rose dissolves into a fit of giggles which only serves to further ruffle Rey up._ _

__“You’re not helping,” she screeches as Rose chokes on a snort of laughter._ _

__Rose collects herself taking big deep breaths that would almost be comical if it weren’t for the fact that Rey is (not so) patiently waiting for Rose to reassure that her that no she doesn’t have to worry, braiding during sex is completely normal._ _

__“I don’t know sex that well, okay?” Rey explains feeling shy. “Sex on Jakku was about survival through the exchange of money...so I don’t know how sex like _this_ -” her hands wave around attempting to elaborate further where her language can’t “-works,” she finishes lamely. _ _

__Rose nods, her eyes understanding. “I’m sorry,” she offers. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. If you’re asking me whether Finn braids my hair during sex-” she tugs at her short inky strands, “- he doesn’t. But if Ben does it….I can’t imagine it comes from a place that isn’t out of love.”_ _

“Okay,” Rey sighs. “Okay. Thanks.” 

“Look,” Rose tugs at her lip in thought. “I don’t know Ben that well. And I’m not his biggest fan. Maybe one day we’ll be friends and I look forward to that day. But if there’s one thing I know about him with a high degree of certainty, is that he loves you. He loves you so fucking much that as an onlooker it feels almost voyeuristic to witness the way he looks at you.” 

*

__

Rey and Ben are going on a _date_ and Rey feels ridiculously giddy.

__They live together, they eat together, they bathe together, sleep together, train together, are together._ _

__So Rey isn’t entirely sure why she’s acting so…like _this_. All she knows is that she wants everything to be perfect. Which is why she ends up (with a lot of pleading and convincing) roping the Lanai to help braid her hair. The Lanai still aren’t entirely fond of her but for some reason, they’re fond of Ben, and when she explains that it’s for him, he _likes_ her hair in braids, they usher her to sit on a (fairly uncomfortable) rock as they fuss about her. _ _

__They braid her hair in a half up half down style, braiding the hair surrounding her face back and letting her natural waves hang loose down her back._ _

__She slips into a loose linen shift dress that Rose told her she looked radiant in. She pinches her cheeks for colour and tucks the basket of air cake under her arm. A tiny smile graces her lips as walks up the steps to the small clearing where Ben is waiting for her._ _

__She spots him leaning back on the grass, hair blowing gently with the wind and her small smile transforms into a maniacal grin that hurts her cheeks._ _

__She loves him _so_ much. _ _

__When Ben turns to look at her he is smiling, and she wants to kiss his dimples but before she has the chance to he is-_ _

__Frowning._ _

__And Rey is clueless as to why._ _

__“Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice weaker than she would like it to be._ _

__“Your hair,” he mutters off-handedly and immediately his cheeks flame scarlet, the tips of his ears blush pink as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud._ _

__Her hand trembles slightly as she brushes her hair back over her shoulder._ _

__“You don’t like it.”_ _

__It’s not a question._ _

__Ben swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. When he asks “who did it?” his voice is hoarse, jaw clenched._ _

__“The Lanai.”_ _

__“Ah,” he sighs and his frown deepens, eyebrows furrowed. “Do you mind if I...May I take it out?”_ _

__“Oh,” Rey falters feeling at loss for words. “Yeah, okay. If you want.”_ _

__Wringing her hands together she turns her back towards him, offering him her hair. With his giant but deft fingers, he carefully takes out the braids until her hair is hanging limply down her back._ _

__When she turns back around to face him she schools her face into a happy smile that weighs heavily upon her face. Knowing that Ben can read her with barely a glance she stuffs her mouth with the Air cake and walks over to the cliffside under the pretence of admiring the sunset._ _

__She braves a glance at back Ben who is watching her carefully with timid eyes._ _

__She swallows down the piece of Air cake that is half-chewed in her mouth._ _

__“Do you not like my hair?” she blurts out nervously._ _

__Ben blinks at her. Once. Twice. Tilts his head to the side and inhales sharply through his nose.  
“Wh-,” he starts before agitatedly running a hand through his hair. “How did you get that impression?” _ _

__“It’s just,” she sighs gnawing at her bottom lip. “Well, _that_ happened. Whatever that was.” She takes another bite of a piece of air cake, chewing nervously as she continues.  
“You always tie my hair back. Actually,” she corrects with an almost derisive scoff. “You braid it. Which is nice. I love it when you play with my hair, it’s great and it’s very impressive that you can braid my hair, especially when we’re doing...oh,” she trails off as the awful realization sinks over her. Suddenly she wishes that the Air cake in her mouth was actual air, a dizziness washing over her. She turns her gaze just shy left of his shoulder no longer being able to stomach his sight. It hurts. _ _

__“What?” He sounds panicked and he’s rocking back and forth on his feet as if he’s hesitant to come near her._ _

__“I’m,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__Ben closes the distance between them, striding toward her in three large steps until her face is cradled in his palms, fingers sweeping across the length of her cheekbone soothingly._ _

__“Cya'rika, what are you talking about? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”_ _

__She closes her eyes._ _

__“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you. I thought-”_ _

__His fingers pause against the crease of her cheekbone._ _

__“What?” he blurts out bewildered. “What are you talking about?”_ _

__She opens her eyes, looking up at him earnestly._ _

__“I didn’t know you got bored doing that. I can do better though, and if you just tell me what you’re into we can do that, I can try tha-”_ _

__“Kriff, Rey. No, that’s not-,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think I could survive you doing better, I’m barely surviving sex with you as it is. You don’t bore me Rey, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m so sorry if I gave you that impression, honestly-” he cuts himself with a sharp inhale. “It’s almost the opposite. I’m not bored. I just...do you know anything about Alderaanian braiding traditions?”_ _

__Rey knows that Ben knows that she knows nothing about Alderannian braiding traditions. But she decides to amuse him with a shake of her head._ _

__“In Alderaan, my mother’s home planet,” he starts his voice trembling at the mention of his mother. “Braids mean something. They’re a language in and of its self. They have meanings. There’s courting braids, engagement braids, celebration braids, wedding braids, mourning braids. Certain braids symbolize love, or trust or loyalty, anything really. As long as every strand of hair is braided with the intention of love, it’s an Alderaanian braid. Braids are usually done by loved ones and taken down by those they love. So when I braid your hair,” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. “It’s because I love you. It’s because I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with all that love other than braid your hair.” He boyishly grins down at her, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. “Though admittedly you didn’t know about Alderaanian braiding traditions so it’s not like you could’ve known.”_ _

__“And the sex thing?” she inquires, her lips tremble as she tries to stop them from quirking up into an amused smirk._ _

__“Rey, sweetheart, you don’t like it when people touch your hair. Kaydel tried to curl your hair and you snarled at her. I thought it’d be better for me to braid your when you’re a little more...preoccupied.” he explains his voice warm and brimming with affection._ _

__Hm._ _

__He’s not wrong. But she likes it, loves it when _Ben_ braids her hair. _ _

__Trailing her index finger down his chest she coyly looks up at him through her lashes and utters a husky “So you like my hair?”_ _

__Ben snorts delicately. “Yeah,” he huffs rolling his eyes. “I like your hair.”_ _

__She decides to push it._ _

__Pressing her palms against his broad shoulders for balance, she lifts herself up onto her tiptoes and nibbles at his earlobe._ _

__“Only like?” she purrs._ _

__“Oh you’re such a brat,” he scolds but the admonishing quality of his voice is lost in the slight hitch of his breath when she sucks his earlobe into her mouth._ _

__She settles back down on her feet so that she can look him in the eyes. “You love me though.”_ _

__Catching her hand in his he brings it up and ever so slowly presses a kiss against the inside of her wrist.  
“I do.” _ _

__His gaze is heated and she finds herself completely unable to look away, drowning in his eyes._ _

__“Would you maybe teach me how to braid?” she asks, her voice full of hope and adoration.  
His ensuing kiss is answer enough. _ _

__

_*_

__

__Rey is leaning against the cave wall, her fingers buried deep in Ben’s hair as he licks at her, hollowing his cheeks around her clit as he sucks with _just_ the right amount of tension. She tries to remember how to thread and weave the strands of his hair in the way he showed her, but with the way he groans and nuzzles at her clint, tongue flicking to collect every drop of arousal that drips from her she’s finding it very difficult to anything. By the time he slides a finger into her, she has done something that may resemble a braid to the front pieces of hair that frame his face. It is messy and his hair is tangled but she figures that if this is how she gets to practice braiding his hair well then-_ _

__She’s certainly not going to complain about it._ _

__As long as she’s the one that gets to take down the braids and detangle the knots that her fingers have woven in the throes of passion. As long as she feels this burning overwhelming love for him, she will always detangle, braid, tangle, repeat._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! If you feel so inclined please leave a comment ( i love those) or hit the kudos button :)) 
> 
> Also, if you want to say hi on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/wouldiwereshoo1)


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